Vial of Black Ink
by Hawkflight7
Summary: A collection of stories centered on Barty/Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

**Vial of Black Ink - The Soulless Corpse**

 **Summary: A collection of stories centered on Barty/Hermione.**

 **This is going to be a collection of stories for the Harry Potter Halloween Collection Competition centered on this pairing. It will hold exactly thirty one chapters, one for each day of October; but they will be uploaded in small bits and pieces rather than individually, so there won't be an update every day. Some may be connected to each other, if that's the case roman numerals will be used alongside the original title to tell you which part you're on (these will not necessarily be uploaded one after the other if this is the case). Prompts used will be at the end of the chapter, looking ahead to see what the content may or may not be is forbidden and will resort in your flesh being used in unspeakable acts.**

 **Now, let's start Halloween off early; shall we? *cackles in the background as darkness descends on the land***

She stepped off of the stone and onto the dirt, clutching the clipboard in her hands to her chest. Hermione wasn't sure if it was because the place remained surrounded by Dementors - with a much more sturdy leash after the events of the war - or if it was the storm that was raging above; perhaps it was simply this place that made her blood run cold.

Numerous tombstones reached up from the ground, the stone at the edges were chipped, hollow dips and imperfections in the stone created from the weather conditions here. Not a single tree, even stripped of leaves stood in the dirt. The stretch of land in front of her was empty beyond those lopsided stones. Further back she could see rotten pieces of bark sticking out of the ground from the wood crosses that use to be used to mark the graves of the prisoners that died here.

There had to be at least a hundred marked with those thin planks. A couple hundred more graves were marked by the stones and the words on them had yet to fade. At least she didn't have to catalog those in the back. It would have been impossible with the state those markers were in.

Even so she wished she didn't have to be here at all. She would much rather be back at the Ministry, but she had made the treatment of prisoners in Azkaban her priority after the war; so it couldn't be helped. Hermione had thought when she signed up for the task though that would just include those that were living. Not the dead ones as well.

She drew in a breath from the moist air and stepped out from under the veranda, shoulders already lowering in phantom misery when her clothes were soaked through from the rain in seconds.

Hermione gripped her quill and began scribbling down the names of those that were dead as she passed the tombstones, merely recording that according to the stones they should be dead and buried. She stopped upon seeing _his_ name though.

 _Bartemius Nile Crouch Junior_

 _1962-1980_

That was a lie. He hadn't died here, but in Hogwarts back in Fourth Year, or rather, his soul had died. His mother was buried beneath this stone, not him. Where had his father's body been buried? She should have the woman dug up and placed in the same cemetery as her husband, preferably right next to him. All of them should be put next to their dead relatives if the living members of the family wished it.

Hermione made a small note on the scroll to remind herself of this later as she turned from the grave, marking a few more names down in the process as she passed more of the gray stones.

As the mud squelched beneath her shoe, trying to suck her foot down, something wrapped around her ankle, sending her off balance when she tugged up with her foot and causing her to land face first into the watered-down dirt.

The rancid smell similar to wet dog invaded her nostrils and Hermione gasped, wrenching her head back and up, out of the mud. Globs of the brown muck moved like a snail down her cheeks and she raised a hand to wipe the majority of it off, leaving dark wet streaks running down her face. The rain should clean the rest off easily enough. Hermione was about to look for her scroll and quill that had been lost when she fell only to feel a number of appendages grasping at her ankle and pulling, _hard_.

She turned her head quickly, eyes wide to see a hand wrapped around her ankle, the wrist slowly emerging from the mud. From the sucking sounds below a much larger form was trying to reach the surface as well. Her breathing stopped as matted down hair began to emerge as well. "What..." This was impossible. The dead did _not_ come back to life; they stayed dead. Had someone been trying to perfect necromancy here with the numerous corpses? If she had these graves dug up would there even be bodies beneath them?

A groan came from the dirt: making her mind go blank, her entire body freezing up, her breath stopping short even as her heart pounded faster in her chest. Another hand reached through the mud, stopping it from falling into the hole as the figure dragged themselves out from the ground. The rain fell in rivers over his skin, a dirty ragged cloth that covered the upper body as he pulled his legs free from the mud.

When the man raised his head and she could see his face a sigh of relief escaped her. It wasn't necromancy at all. "Barty..." No wonder she hadn't been told where his soulless body was; someone had buried him, likely expecting his body to die as well out here.

Hermione reached forward to disentangle his fingers from her ankle, wrapping her own around his as she stood up, pulling him along with her. The trousers he wore were also ripped in various places, stained from the mud and now soaked from the rain. Who had done this to him?

She grunted softly as he leaned against her, not completely prepared to be supporting a portion of his body weight. If only she could ask him who had done this, if he could actually answer her. It was rare for a prisoner that had received the Dementor's Kiss to speak even a single word, usually it didn't go past animalistic sounds.

"Come on. I'll take you back to your cell, and then I'll see to getting you some new clothes and food as well," Hermione spoke softly to him before she began to walk back to the veranda, towards the door that would take her into the Azkaban prison.

She would need to have a talk with the guards about the mistreatment of prisoners.

 **Prompt used: 55. Azkaban Burial Grounds (i simply couldn't pass this one up; it's too damn perfect for this pair)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Vial of Black Ink - Way of the Central Tower**

Her hand slid over the stone as she walked, keeping in constant contact so she wasn't as likely to go toppling over at a moment's notice. The path was pitch dark and with the stone steps she didn't want to chance breaking a bone in her body. Especially right now.

Hermione held her breath for a moment when she heard a shifting beyond the wall to her left. Had they heard her? A shuffling sounded not long after, growing more distant by the second and she had to stop herself from sighing out loud. They hadn't.

She checked that the enchantment at her feet was still in place, to keep her footsteps silent before she resumed her path upward. It was dizzying, moving at the edges of the tower, the slim width of the wall was much larger inside though. At first she had feared she wouldn't fit through the opening, but she had, and now that she was in all she needed to do was make sure no one noticed her. If she was caught... she didn't even want to think of the possibilities if she was found.

With a rough shake of her head she continued onward until her knee bumped into the rock in front of her, holding back a curse she went still, but no sounds other than the scraping of a chair came from beyond the wall. Hermione leaned forward, running her other hand over the stone in front of her until she found the small little hole and slipped her wand inside, casting a silence charm and then an unlocking spell right after it. She removed her wand then, pushing the door open with the heel of her hand.

Hermione peeked around the corner, checking that McGonagall wasn't in the room. So she had to be outside of the room still, standing guard at the door. Her attention shifted to the chair not too far from her then, the occupant was currently preoccupied with glaring at the door, though. She took a step forward before maneuvering herself behind the chair and used a severing charm to cut the bindings that kept him strapped to the chair.

This action finally seemed to catch his attention as Barty turned his head quickly, eyes widening upon seeing her there. When he opened his mouth to speak Hermione hurriedly pressed a finger to his lips, the universal sign to be quiet.

At the nod of his head she was about to draw her hand back when his fingers clasped around her wrist, his lips pressing to the back of her hand, lingering there for a few seconds before he let her go. She could feel a burn in her cheeks, but at the sound of McGonagall shifting outside the door she took his hand and moved back to the opening in the wall, urging him through with a series of frantic hand motions.

If someone caught them...

Barty pressed a kiss to her lips, driving the thought from her and for an instant all she could think of were his lips on hers. Soft yet firm against her own. The way they had felt on her neck just a few nights ago...

He pulled away, stepping into the darkness and she was quick to follow him, shutting the door behind her. She placed her wand back into the hole, locking the door before lifting the silence charm on the room. Hermione turned back to him then, placing the charm on his own shoes before squeezing past him so she could lead him down the steps.

They were nearly at the bottom when she stopped and turned to face the wall, tapping the section with her wand so it slipped open into a dark room, disconnected from the rest of the castle. This was the only entry point for it and the perfect hiding spot for the time being. She tugged on Barty's hand to guide him inside, sliding the wall closed and placing a few charms so it would become even less noticeable than it already was if someone happened to find the hidden path she had used.

The moment it was closed she could hear a murmured spell and see shadows dancing along the wall in front of her. The stone looked seamless and with the confidence that it looked the same on the other side she turned to face Barty, who had lit a candle in the room and was now looking around the area.

She clasped her hands together, smiling at him, hoping he was happy with her choice. Another second passed before his eyes fell on her.

"I'm not hiding here!"

Hermione nearly jumped from the force in his voice. "Why not?" the words came out quieter than she wanted them to.

"Well," he began, giving another critical look around the room. "If we have to hide, I want to be somewhere familiar. I want to know where the exits are, and I want to be allowed to smoke."

"You can smoke here," it was the first thing she could think of to say. The only positive thing she could find in his words, something that could be the way he wanted it. At the look he gave her she just started speaking quickly, hoping to find something that would lift his spirits once more, "The room is separate from the rest of Hogwarts, but we're still in the school. Also, the exit is just down the stairs in the hall, but the door beyond that one is currently being guarded. If it wasn't we could have gotten out that way. We just need to wait for them to leave, for an opportunity to get out unseen and then we can leave this room. That works for you, doesn't it?" she asked. All she wanted was for him to be happy - with her, forever - and that couldn't have happened if he had remained a prisoner up there in that tower, waiting for the Minister to show up and tell the staff what to do with him.

Barty didn't say anything for a second, but then smiled at her. It nearly melted her heart to see him like that, with that expression, because of _her_. "Of course, my obedient slave."

 **Prompt used: "I'm not hiding there!" / "Why not?" / "Well, if we have to hide, I want to be somewhere familiar. I want to know where the exits are, and I want to be allowed to smoke."**


	3. Chapter 3

**Vial of Black Ink - You're Next**

 **This is Halloween. This is Halloween, everybody scream!**

Ribbons of blood danced through the air: weaving among other strands of red, spinning down in circlets before landing on the stone with a sickening plop. Each drop hitting the uneven surface right after the other.

Her eyes widened as the body slumped to the floor as _he_ stood over it. A wicked grin was on his face as he turned to her, holding the blade between his thumb and pointer finger, swinging it back and forth as he walked towards her.

The blood pounded louder in her ears with each step he took, unable to look away from those dark eyes.

Her whole body froze when he stepped past her and a bloodcurdling scream filled the air as he grabbed the prisoner just beyond her. The one that had been cowering in the shadows, trying to hide from him by curling into a tight ball behind her.

They were being dragged over the ground now towards the pile of bodies that filled the air with a rancid smell. The tips of their fingers split open as they clawed at the stone, begging to be last. "Please, please," the boy sobbed as his wrists were enclosed in metal shackles, soon being dragged up into the air as if by an invisible thread.

"Oh, you don't really mean that," Barty spoke softly, running the blade along the boy's chin, drawing a thin line of blood. "I have something special saved up for the last one of you, and I don't think you could handle it. _You_ couldn't even handle seeing your friends split open, entrails dragged out to make a jacob's ladder. Just like in that muggle game you're kind like to play with string. Of course, your friend didn't hang onto the ladder for very long, did they? So, why should I expect you to do any better than them?"

The whole time he was speaking Barty had been cutting the boy's shirt open with the knife, leaving thin red string wrapped around the boy's shoulders, melting and dripping down onto the floor below. She wished it was string, it was the only way she could keep her eyes on the fellow muggleborn. If she looked away...

If she...

"Hermione." Her gaze moved from the boy to Barty, who had raised a single finger, shifting it back and forth in her view as he tutted at her. "No shivering, now. You've nearly kept your composure through the last dozen."

Kept her composure? She had been frozen by fear for what felt like days; she didn't know how long she had actually been in this state. Unable to move, just watching as he tortured one muggleborn after the other in his own sick twisted games.

She could only watch as the boy screamed as Barty began plunging the knife into his stomach, twisting before pulling it back out and repeating the process. Over and over... until the boy ceased his screams, no longer struggling against the manacles, eyes lifeless as he hung in the air.

Then dark those dark eyes were on her once more, drops of bright red on his lips, dotting across Barty's face as he raised the bloodless blade towards her. _You're next_ , he mouthed. _The last one. I have a special treat for you._

 **Prompts: 1. bloodcurdling and 62. You're Next**


	4. Chapter 4

**Vial of Black Ink - The One On The Hill**

 **Because tradition demands it.**

The kid next to her josteled into her, but even so her gaze didn't move from the house they were all staring at.

Even with the moon out, the black pavement shining under the soft white light, it held an ominous glow, sitting atop that hill. It looked like it had been ripped right from pages of a bad fairy tale. The windows boarded up with jagged pieces of wood, broken glass glittering in the grass beneath them. Those thin glowing stalks of grass had to be higher than her waistline, hiding the bottom of the window sill from view. The panes on the roof were loose, some cracked with age or from the weather, others missing entirely and making the house look like a skeleton.

It was no wonder the children had stopped in their festives to look up at it. Expecting to see flashes of lightning, shadows forming clawed hands reaching out toward them. But the sky was clear; even so the building was no less mencacing.

"You go," One of the boys to her left said, pushing a friend towards the house.

"No!" they squealed in fright, pushing them back as they quickly stepped off the edge of the black pavement leading up to the house.

"Just make it to the rock, up there." Another child pointed to the stone that marked the half-way point up the hill.

For a moment there was squabbling among the costumed children before one finally shouted, "I'll do it!" and ran up the hill, placing their hand on the rock then running even faster back down to them. "The curtain moved!" they yelled.

"It was just the wind, you scaredy cat," another snapped back. Soon they were debating if the curtain really had moved or not as Hermione stared up at the house. According to the rumors a man lived there that looked half mad. He was the reason for the children's games now, especially on Halloween when they were trying to frighten one another.

She could feel a chill running down her own spine just from listening to the others, saying how the man ate squirrels alive without even skinning them and even more ridiculous notions. It was the holidays that were getting them so worked up. To test eachother with how close they could get to the door.

"Ring the bell!"

Another shout filled the air and after a moment Hermione darted forward, "I'll do it!" If she could ring the bell and show she was braver than them then maybe they would actually play with her on the playground. Instead of ignoring her, calling her weird and saying her hair was frizzy.

Her feet slammed against the pavement as she ran past the rock, a scuff mark from the latest child to run up the hill. She kept moving even as her bones grew cold, just from getting closer to the place. Hermione couldn't tell if it was the breeze or if the air around the house simply had a chill around it.

She didn't stop until she reached the door and stood there, breathing heavily as she stared at the darkk wood, numerous cracks running aong the surface. An odd symbol was carved into the door, looking much like the cross and pair of snakes that would be entwined above a hospital door. Upon looking closer though it was more like a thin stick, with chains wrapped around it, wings sprouting out from it.

With a steadying hand upon seeing the wings she pressed her finger against the small piece of black stone next to the door. It slid inward, but she heard no bell from within. Even so she stood still for a few seconds. Perhaps no one actually lived here. It looked too worn down to be a home to anyone.

A series of thuds from beyond made her whole body freeze, feet stuck to the rotting floorboards of the porch..When the door swung open she jumped nearly sky high.

Dark, liquid brown eyes fell on her. The corner of a lip twisting up into a sneer. "Is this all?" The man let out a snort as he gazed down at her, hair unkempt and hanging in clumps around his face. "If this is Braun's idea of a joke, it's a terrible one. Well, what are you doing? Get inside," without another word his hand grasped her arm and she was pulled into the shadows of the house.

The ones shaped like claws.

 **Prompts: 26. Trick or Treating**


	5. Chapter 5

**Vial of Black Ink - Midnight's Feather**

She stepped into the dimly lit tavern, listening to the door swing shut behind her, banging loudly into the wood frame. Hermione quickly moved from the entrance and over to the bar, extending a bag of wizard coins to the man seated beyond it. "One butterbeer, please. And a shepherd's pie."

The man took the bag of coins, pulling at the string of the pouch to look inside before giving a nod and disapearing through the broken swinging door of the kitchens.

A clatter of glass beyond her made Hermione turn her head, just enough to see a man on the ground, hands above his head. "Sorry, sorry," the man spoke in quick stutters, peering up at those standing in front of him.

"Sorry?" One of the men, she recognized as Crabbe's father from a portrait in a manor belonging to a family of Death Eaters mimicked the old man's words with a sneer. "You'll pay for that drink."

"I don't have-"

Another one, that looked strikingly similiar to Goyle bent down to grab the man by his beard. "If you don't have the money on you, then maybe we should go to your house and take whatever interests us as payment."

"I-" the man croaked as she turned in her chair, picking out a galleon to throw at the unmasked Death Eaters.

A third man caught the coin from his own seat, having looked on silently at the scene his men were creating. He twirled the coin in his fingers as he spoke, "Let the fool go. Crabbe, Goyle."

The old man scrambled to his feet upon being dropped to the stone and without a glance around the tavern he ran out the front door.

Hermione ducked her head down just as the third man stood up from his chair, walking over towards her. Even in the dimlight she recognized that straw-like hair, glistening in the flames from sweat. The Death Eaters must have stopped here after a mission, but she hadn't been able to let them beat on an old man just for being clumsy enough to knock Crabbe's drink to the floor.

The man leaned against the bar, setting the galleon on the wood surface, just as the owner walked out from the kitchens with her shepard's pie, a butterbeer, and a midnight black pouch. "Three firewhiskeys and one for my friend here," he tilted his head towards her.

She had to force herself not to draw her hood up further, to allow her fingers to even twitch under his sharp eyes. Hermione simply took her food and drink, drawing it closer to her, taking the pouch and putting it into her pocket.

"'Course." The owner took the galleon, turning around to grab a flask of firewhiskey and start emptying the contents into four cups.

"We haven't heard your name yet, friend."

The beat of heart increased, racing in her chest when he spoke to her. Even so she swallowed down the panic fluttering in her chest, containing it. "I haven't said it."

"Hmm." For a moment she thought he had recognized her voice, but then Barty simply took one of the mugs set in front of him and slid it across the wood to her. She stopped it before it could spill over her. "Goyle, Crabbe, we're leaving. Take your damn drinks with you."

She didn't let her shoulders lower even after the group of Death Eaters had left the tavern.

 **Prompt: 45. "We haven't heard your name yet, friend." / "I haven't said it." 41. Panic**


	6. Chapter 6

**Vial of Black Ink - Midnight's Feather II**

Hermione let out a sigh when she was finally out of the tavern. No longer feeling like she needed to be looking over her shoulder every other second, fearing someone might recognize her.

She was now sitting in the forest surrounding the small wizarding town, taking out the black pouch from her pocket. Hermione pulled at the dark strings keeping it closed, opening the pouch to look at the contents within.

A single clean vial lay within, along with red silk wrapped around various dark and rare potion ingredients. After sifting through a few of them she found what she needed for the potion and took out the vial, stripping off her shoes to keep it balanced between her bare feet. Any magical contact with the vial would omit the properties of the potion; so she didn't dare levitate the thin fragile object.

She began with cutting up the ingredient with a small pocketknife, smashing them to a pulp with rocks before dropping them into the vial. Watching the liquid go from bright gold to a blue whisper until turning a dark black. It was swirling now even though she wasn't moving the vial, spinning faster and faster-

"Granger."

Her back went ram rod straight, throat tightening as she forced words from her lips, "You're mistaken."

"I don't think I am," Barty's voice filled her ears as he stepped from the trees, boots crunching the leaves beneath. "Just where are you trying to run to?" He finally stopped in front of her, leaning down to look at the potion, to see her face beneath the hood. "Or should I ask who you're trying to find?"

The potion had finally settled, the black mass compressed together, with thin little lines branching out from the brittle bone like structure running down the middle of it. Midnight's Feather, now surrounded by a clear substance.

He plucked the vial from the confines of her feet and she raised her head slowly to watch as he gripped it lightly between two fingers. "Where are your friends? The Weasley boy? Potter?"

"We got seperated," she replied softly, listening for extra pairs of feet but finding none. Had he really come alone?

He ran a finger down the side of the vial, grip loosening in the process, but she didn't dare make a move to take it from him. "Have you already set the destination?" When she didn't answer his grip tightened on the vial as he gazed at her, silent for a few long seconds. "Come," he said, reaching forward to grasp her wrist with one hand, shattering the vial in his other hand.

The clear liquid dripped down his palm in thick droplets, like blood. His fingers held the Midnight's Feather between them now as he disapparated with a loud crack, leaving the forest empty and silent as a grave.

 **Prompt: 14. Black**


	7. Chapter 7

**Vial of Black Ink - Wraith**

 **Just to be clear: everyone is entitled to their own opinion on any and everyone's works (though, if you don't like a particular pairing or character you probably shouldn't be reading it in the first place; since you would be unlikely to enjoy it). Also, Lunar Embrace is on** _ **hold**_ **as the chapters refuse to be written. And badmouthing current stories I write with this pairing does** _ **not**_ **eradicate the word block for one that's currently being a pain-in-the-neck as it is.**

She stepped down the passage, carrying a candle who's flame flickered over the stone, casting twisted shadows that followed her every step. Like little mischevious gnomes who's intentions did not stay restricted to the garden; but rather the whole manor. Specifically the sprawling tunnels beneath it, trailing after her, litte fingers snatching at the hem of her dress as she walked.

Just like one of those Goosebumps books she had read as a kid.

Hermione sighed softly as she stepped of the last step, turning to face one of the passages to spring backwards an instant later, back pressed to the dank stone, a hand hovering over her chest; to try and stop the frantic fluttering of her heart upon seeing a dark figure in her path. One that wasn't a part of the shadows that had been dancing around her just a moment before.

Before she dropped the candle and it went out instantly after falling into a shallow puddle.

She took in a quick breath, slowing her beating heart as she gazed at the dark outline in the pitch black passage. "You gave me such a fright! I thought you were a ghost!"

Her heart skipped a beat as he remained silent for a whole minute before speaking in turn, "Sorry."

Hermione bit at her lip before stepping forward, reaching out to grasp at one of his hands, fingers interlocking with his own. "Barty? Are you okay?"

His ragged breathing told her he wasn't, but she wanted to know _why_. What could have possibly have gone wrong for him to be like this. "Fine," he replied, pulling her forward into his arms and she could feel her clothes become damp, from something thicker than water, making the cloth stick to her skin. "Don't ever leave me."

 **You get a cookie if you can correctly guess where this scene takes place. Okay, it's a bloody cookie.**

 **Prompt: 50. "You gave me such a fright! I thought you were a ghost!"**


	8. Chapter 8

**Vial of Black Ink - Lookin'**

 **Okay, so I didn't finish this in October, but the remaining chapters will be out before the end of the year. Which is a lot. And that's not including all the other one-shots I'll be making for these two in the upcoming weeks.**

 _A pair of arms wrapped around her, drawing her close so she could hear him whisper, "Your special."_

 _She turned in his arms, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "I am?" she asked, not quite believing him._

 _"Forever and always," he promised with a kiss to her lips._

She could feel his gaze on her as she walked through the crowd, the words, "Savior!" on each and everyone's lips. Of course, they weren't only shouting at her, but Harry and Ron as well. With the defeat of Voldemort this was the usual greeting they got when they went anywhere in Britian.

Hermione suspected this behavior would only last for a few months. Until they all went back to their own business, as if Voldemort and his followers had never existed.

That no one would care to follow any member of the trio to ambush them and ask for interviews on the final battle or anything else grateful fanatic worshipping people did.

 _She gazed down at him as she sat in his lap, arms entwined around the back of his neck, giggling as he laid kisses on her bare chest. Her eyelids slid closed as his tongue ran over her left nipple, making a soft sigh slip from her lips as her head fell back._

 _"Mmm."_

 _When he stopped in his ministrations she opened her eyes, glancing down at him. "Barty?"_

 _His thumb rested over her nipple now, pressing down on the flesh that he was staring so fixadetly at. "Should we get married?"_

 _"What?" Where had this come from?_

 _Barty was silent for a moment, pressing the tip of his thumb right above her nipple before digging the nail into the skin. She gasped aloud when she felt the slight sting, to see a droplet of blood forming on that spot a second later. "Another of your co-workers proposed to you."_

 _Ah, so that's why he had asked._

"No, no. I'm in a relationship already." Hermione fended off one of the latest men that had asked her to marry them or suggested a _fling_ \- as if she would ever do such a thing.

"Oh. Okay." The man looked dissapointed when he walked away, much like a kicked puppy, but she was sure it was all an act. He was just one of those people that was attracted to fame, probably because he wanted to be a part of it. She had noticed this formula quite a bit over the past few weeks, so she could tell what they were going to say before a word left their mouthes; allowing her to decline before they even asked.

Though, unlike before she didn't see the same men coming back and asking again. That stubborn persistence seemed to finally be dying out.

 _She stepped into the house, nudging off one shoe at a time with the heel of her foot. "Barty, I'm home," Hermione called out, locking the door behind her before stepping onto the wood boards with her sock covered feet. "Barty?" she called again, making her way down into the basement where he usually worked. Away from windows and any potential flashing cameras owned by the Daily Prophet._

 _It was silent when she opened the cellar door, but she could see the flame of a candle further in and stepped forward. Her eyebrow raised when she could feel a liquid soak into her socks. Had one of his experiments gone wrong?_

 _"Hermione," it was just a whisper, but she could hear it in the silence._

 _"Barty, next time answer when I call," she said as she stepped forward, ignoring the sucking sounds from when she raised her foot to do so. "I thought something had gone wrong..."_

 _The words died on her lips as she could see him now in the candlelight, sitting on the floor against the wall, blood pooling around him. It didn't take her long to figure out that that was why her socks were soaked, why they made those odd sounds as she walked._

 _Hermione ran towards him, sinking to the floor as she checked for any wounds. "What happened? Are you okay?"_

 _"As long as you're with me." A single arm raised to wrap around her, drawing her close, so her head laid on his shoulder even as her hands continued to move, trying to figure out where all the blood came from._

 _Her fingers froze a moment later as she looked at what laid across from her. Human bodies, stripped of their skin, some with the bone showing through the muscle. She recognized one of the forms as one of the men she had sent away a day ago, one of those fame seekers._

 _There was a tingling at the back of her throat and she had to clasp a hand over her mouth to stop from throwing up, understanding his words now. "What have you done?" she muttered from behind her fingers._

 **Prompt: 33. Psychological**

 **Beyond this prompt this ficlet was also heavily inspired by "What U See (Is What U Get)" by Britney Spears**


	9. Chapter 9

**Vial of Black Ink - From Dusk til Dawn**

She sat in front of the fire on a log, waiting patiently with her legs crossed for him to start the story.

Barty came back to the fire, having retrieved a fallen branch and placed the end of it into the fire. He retracted his arm once the flames started to cling to the dry wood, but she could tell from the dark coloring near the base where he held it was water-logged. "On a night much like this one," he began, winking at her when she rolled her eyes at his supposed 'clever tactic' for not saying the usual.

"Clear skies and a warm burning fire, the night was filled with laughter that had turned into screams not long after. For this story starts during a friendly game of hide-and-seek between a group of friends that had gone out camping that very night. It had started out fine, until the spirit of the cursed forest appeared to take part. You see, it didn't like its forest being disturbed by the children and they didn't head the town's warnings of the forest being haunted. The friends didn't believe in such tales until that night, when the spirit turned them into statues with a touch. As a constant reminder to those that entered its forest and the consequences of doing such a foolish thing. So that the children were eternally playing their little game, trapped alive, imprisoned in stone, unable to cry out."

"I'll give you points for originality," Hermione told him when he was finished with his tale. "But not so much when it comes to the scare-"

Barty threw the burning branch into the fire, racing around the fire to reach her, a hand swiping at the empty space above the log she had fallen off backwards. "Start hiding before the spirit finds you!" he called as she jumped to her feet and took off into the surrounding trees, laughing as Barty ran after her, playing the part of the spirit in his tale.

 **Prompt: 58. From Dusk til Dawn**


	10. Chapter 10

**Vial of Black Ink - "Wicked Witch"**

"Trick or treat?" she called through the door upon hearing a knock on the wood.

"How about you just unlock the door. I've been giving candy to those children all night with their similarily scripted speech. I just want to go to sleep, Hermione."

"There's a couch in the living room if you refuse to answer the question."

At his groan from beyond the door she giggled; the accompanying growl that had to be filling the hallway told her that he had heard her. "I will alhohomora the door if you don't open it."

"But I placed the counter-spell on it," she informed him of what he aleady knew. Which made it even more worthwhile when she heard his forehead connect with the door a moment later.

"For the love of- Oh, for heaven's sake. Treat. As in I get to sleep in my own warm comfy bed and not that blasted thing you call a couch."

"You got a problem with my couch?" she asked, fingers hovering over the door knob.

"It's leather. You can't sleep on leather."

"Yes, you can."

"Not comfortably."

Figuring she had tortured him enough she unlocked the door before grabbing the door knob, turning it to swing the door inward. She watched with delight as Barty just stood in the doorway, staring at her.

Specifically at the green lingerie she currently had on.

"You... Wicked witch."

She laughed as he grabbed her around the waist, picking her up to deposit her on the bed shortly after. "I thought you wanted to sleep," she teased as she watched him practically tear his own clothes from his body.

"I thought you were giving me a treat," he countered and Hermione spread her legs further so he could see the lingerie more clearly, the bottom of which was nearly soaked through with her arousal.

 **Prompt: 12. "Wicked Witch" Green**


End file.
